Break of Dawn
by liviafan1
Summary: Kate kidnaps Castle in the middle of the night for a beach getaway, desperate to prove to him how much she loves him. Complete oneshot.


**Based on a prompt I found on Tumblr entitled "Unusual Date Ideas":**

**In the middle of the night, drive to the beach, so you arrive just as the sun is rising. Have a breakfast picnic and then fall asleep together.**

* * *

She's lost her mind.

It'll never work; he'll never go for it. But she's sick of talking about everything and nothing all at once.

Which is why she stepped into the Captain's office on a quiet, murder-free afternoon when he decided to stay home and write.

Decided to stay home and avoid her.

What's the difference, really?

The Captain told her no—they need her this weekend—but that won't stop her. She'll call in sick or show up late or ask Ryan and Esposito to cover for her. It's selfish, she knows that, but she's never asked for much from the NYPD. God forbid she tries to salvage one of the few relationships in her life that means something.

It doesn't take much planning on her part, but that doesn't make it any less painful, especially when she has to call his kid up to explain. She splutters and stutters and wrings her hands like she's a child sitting in the principal's office. It's unnatural the way the girl unnerves her, but Kate knows how much she means to him. She'll win her over eventually. Maybe not in a month, maybe not in a year. But someday.

It has to be Friday. She has to finish out the week with nothing on her mind except for him—them—and the last glimmer of hope inside of her.

It's late when she ducks out—_really late_—because it takes all of her energy to focus. Ryan and Esposito left hours ago, bidding her goodnight like any other night. Except that it isn't any other night. Not tonight.

She doesn't bother sleeping. She grabs a glass of wine and flicks on the television for an hour to calm her nerves. It helps, a little, and she's almost completely at ease when she steps out of the shower and pulls on a cutoff sweatshirt and her favorite pair of jeans.

But by the time she reaches his loft, her stomach could win the Olympics in somersaults. She pushes the unlocked door open quietly (she really needs to remember to thank Alexis again later) and steps in, taking a deep breath. It's completely dark and she has to shuffle slowly along the floor to keep from bumping into anything.

She slips into his office, pausing outside his bedroom door. She presses her hand to the door, lets it rest there for a second.

She really hopes he doesn't sleep in the nude.

But _oh._

What if he isn't alone? She can almost see through the door, as if it's transparent. He's got a long arm draped around the blond, his nose pressed into her hair.

Her heart clenches in her chest and she has to rest her head against the door for a second to get her bearings. She's made it this far. No turning back now.

She pushes the door open before she can talk herself out of it again.

He's sprawled along the length of the bed, body contracting heavily in sleep. The right side of his face is mashed into the pillow and his tee shirt has ridden up a few inches. His hand grips the edge of the sheet tightly and his body is tense with unease.

But he's alone.

She puts off waking him up for now as she rummages through his dresser and flips through the clothes in his closet to pull out a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and flip flops. She places them on the edge of the bed and tiptoes carefully to the right side of the bed.

She reaches out a hand to brush through his hair, but stops herself.

God, she's losing it. She lets out a quiet, frustrated breath as she brushes a few loose strands of hair from her face.

It's 3:30. She needs to get a move on.

"Castle," she says gently. Nothing. She taps him on the shoulder and shifts back quickly, poised for a response.

Thank God she's alone. She looks like a fool.

She sighs. "Rick." A little louder this time.

Oh, for Christ's sake. She fishes her phone out of her pocket and dials his number, waiting for his phone on the nightstand to respond. She watches it light up faintly, but no sound reverberates from it.

Her heart sinks.

Well, that says something, doesn't it?

She plops down on the edge of his bed in defeat, resting her head in her hands.

Maybe she can't fix this. Maybe she's too late and they're completely beyond repair and—

She feels him shift beside her. "Beckett?"

Her head snaps to him, startled. She swallows. "Hi, Castle."

He sits up straight, rubbing his eyes. "'S everything okay? What time is it?" His hand fumbles with the alarm clock next to him, forcing the red light into his bleary eyes.

"It's 3:30," she confirms softly.

"In the morning?" he squeaks.

She smiles. "Yeah."

"You watching me sleep?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

At least he still finds it in himself to joke with her a little.

"Not quite." She hesitates. "I'm kidnapping you."

He cocks his head, frowning. "What?"

She reaches around to the edge of the bed and grabs the clothes she picked out and tosses them onto his lap. "I'm kidnapping you. C'mon, let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"But—"

"No buts, Castle."

His face hardens. "You can't just demand—"

"Rick." She takes a deep, shuddering breath, willing the tears away. "Please."

He sighs, face softening just slightly. "Okay. Okay."

She waits for him out in the kitchen, pours him a cup of coffee in a travel mug she finds. He steps out moment later looking adorably sleepy and crumpled in comfortable clothes.

"Thought you could use some coffee," she says softly, offering the mug to him.

He takes it from her greedily, wrapping his fingers around the warm metal. "Help yourself." He nods to the machine.

"I'm good. I left the precinct late and didn't sleep, so." She shrugs.

He raises an eyebrow. "Not at all?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not really tired." She's lying, of course, she hasn't slept well in days. Once upon a time he would see right through her lie, but now he just nods, accepts it as truth even if he believes otherwise.

Again, she has to swallow the hurt that rises in her chest.

"Come on. We should get going."

* * *

He's silent for the first few minute, has no idea what to say. He wonders if something happened on this last case, something to prompt her pulling him out of bed at all hours of the night.

She seems okay, though. Maybe a little nervous, but okay. She's tired, too, even if she says otherwise. He thought about calling her out on her lie and demanding that she get some rest, but it's not his job to take care of her.

He sips his coffee and rests his head against his usual seat in her Crown Vic. His curiosity is killing him, but he's almost content to amuse her for now.

_Almost_.

"How far are we going?" he asks, his voice cutting through a popular Adele song.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and slides her hands down the steering wheel a little further. "Should be there by 5:30."

_Two hours?_

"We're driving two hours out of Manhattan and you expect me to sit here with no questions asked?" He attempts to tame the bite in his voice, but fails miserably.

She sighs, shuttering her eyes briefly against the ice in his tone.

"Is there any part of you that still trusts me?" A beat. "Because if there is, Castle, can you please just embrace that for right now? I don't know what else you want me to say."

God help him, but he does. Even after everything she's put him through, he trusts her with his life.

Not his heart—no.

But he can put his life in her hands for a few hours.

He doesn't answer, but she takes his silence as acceptance, reaching over to lightly squeeze his thigh in gratitude. He swallows roughly as he feels his eyes pulled to the way her long fingers wrap around his leg.

She slips her hand away slowly, almost reluctantly, as she lets it rest against the steering wheel again.

"Don't you have to be at the precinct early this morning?" he asks, confused. He hasn't been by in a while, but he's pretty certain that it's her Saturday.

She nods, pursing her lips.

"Did Gates give you the day off?"

"Not exactly." She falters. "But this is more important," she breathes. The corners of her mouth hesitate in a soft, crinkled smile. He has to clench his hands at his sides to keep from brushing her cheek with his knuckles, to keep from running the pads of his fingers under the elastic of her ponytail.

He's still mad, but can't seem to stop his familiar whining. "You really won't tell me where we're going?"

She laughs. "I really won't tell you where we're going."

He lets his head bounce off the back of the seat. "Fine," he grumbles childishly.

"It'll be worth the wait, Castle. I promise."

He doesn't think she's talking about the trip anymore.

* * *

He feels her shake him awake a short time later.

"We're here," she says softly, shifting the car into park. He shifts in his seat to get a better look out the window.

"Is this—are we—Fort Tilden?"

Her eyes light up in surprise. "You've been here?"

He shakes his head. "I've just seen pictures, but—"

"What?"

"Don't you need a fishing license to access the beach?"

She grins. "Not sure how much a fishing license would help me at 5:30 in the morning, but generally, yeah." She pushes her door open, pocketing her keys. He follows suit, breathing deeply as the salty air assaults his senses.

He finds her bent over the trunk, fumbling in the dark. He pulls his phone out and shines a light into it.

"Thanks. I keep meaning to get the lightbulb changed in here." She produces a picnic basket and a few blankets.

"So exactly how many laws are we breaking here this morning?" he asks as she slams the trunk closed.

"Don't tell me Richard Castle's afraid of breaking a few rules," she teases, rolling her eyes.

"I'd just rather not spend a night in jail," he says defensively.

She laughs, patting his shoulder. "You worry too much." She shrugs. "Besides, all we have to do is jump a fence."

"Oh, is that all?" he asks skeptically.

* * *

"Just for future reference, Beckett, jumping a fence is not synonymous to _climbing_ a fence."

She rolls her eyes. "Duly noted, Castle. Now come on, give me a boost." She tosses the basket and blankets gently over the other side.

"What do you need a boost for?" he asks, examining the chain link fence.

"I don't. Just an excuse to have you feel me up."

His jaw drops.

"I'm _joking_, Castle. Come on." She slides up the fence easily, swinging a leg over the top before landing with a soft thud onto the blacktop.

"Why do I feel like you've done this before?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, joining her on the ground.

"A story for another time." She grins, picking up the discarded items. He follows her through the empty parking lot to the edge of the beach.

"Wow," he breathes as the wind licks his face. She slips her shoes off her feet and canters down the shore a ways, closer to the water.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asks quietly, admiring the crashing waves. It's still dark, but the sun should rise within the hour.

"Is it always like this?" he asks reverently.

"It's pretty quiet around here. My parents used to bring me here sometimes when they wanted a quiet vacation. Not a lot of people around."

"Why?"

"Not that accessible. No lifeguards. You're kind of on your own here." A beat. "And there are no vendors or anything."

She turns away from him to spread the blankets out onto the cold sand. Her ponytail flutters gently against her cheek in the light breeze. She sits down, tucking her ankles under her legs, looking up at him expectantly under the flick of her eyelashes.

He swallows hard. He's so in over his head here.

He plops down next to her, leaving a safe six inches or so between them.

The silence swallows them for a few moments as it occurs to him that he hasn't bothered to ask her what's in the picnic basket.

"How's the book coming?" she asks, interrupting his thoughts.

Right. He'd left her to work the cases without him because he needed time to work on Nikki Heat.

He shrugs. "Been kind of blocked lately," he admits.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," is all he offers. Let her figure it out.

But she lets it go. "Hasn't been the same there without you," she says softly.

He closes his eyes against her admission. He really doesn't want to hear this now. He can't believe that she would drive two hours just to get him to talk.

"Is this why we're here, Kate? So you can make me talk without worrying that I'll run off?" he asks, irritated.

He expects her to shrink away from his words, but she doesn't.

"No. No, Castle, that's not why I brought you here." She sighs. "You want some breakfast?"

He—what?

"Breakfast?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Yeah, I brought food." She lifts the lid of the basket and pulls out a tub of cookies, a couple of bananas, a bag of grapes, a thermos of coffee, and a bag of bagels.

"Don't know if the coffee's kept," she says, popping a grape into her mouth.

He _is_ hungry.

He pulls out a plain bagel from the bag.

"I've got cream cheese, too, if you want it." She fumbles inside the basket and pulls out a small container of cream cheese and a plastic knife, offering them.

"Thanks."

They chew in silence and he thinks it's a shame that they can't even manage to make small talk anymore.

But when he looks over at her, she seems at ease, her toes curled in the sand, her cheek resting against her open palm, staring out into the sea.

He doesn't understand how she can be so calm when their relationship is in pieces around them, in danger of being swept out into the ocean, never to be seen again.

He lets his upper body fall to the blanket as his thoughts wrap around him in a cold caress. He feels her shift on the blanket as she cants her body towards his.

"It was a mistake to bring you here, wasn't it?" she rasps, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Oh, wow. She's all over the place this morning.

He hesitates. "I just…don't understand the point? Why are we here?"

"I'm trying to make a gesture," she says sheepishly. "I'm clearly failing, but that was my intent."

"A gesture?"

"Yeah. Kind of like this one," she breathes, sliding her arms to rest on either side of his body. His breath hitches as her soft, pink mouth lowers to rest above his.

"Kate," he breathes.

"Shh. I'm trying to make a gesture here, Castle." It's almost a tease, but it's not quite there yet. He can hear the desperation in her tone.

She captures his mouth and _oh—_

His head swims with her scent, with _Kate_, as he pulls her flush to him on a groan. She fists his sweatshirt in her hands, desperately clinging to him. His hands grip her waist tightly, the pads of his thumbs slipping under the soft grey cotton. She slides away from his mouth, her lips brushing against his cheek.

"Am I too late, Rick?" she whispers hoarsely, her body shaking with emotion.

Oh, _God. _ But he thought that she—

"Too late?" he rasps.

"Please don't tell me I'm too late. Please." She's almost begging and he feels his heart crack under the weight of her anxiety.

Her fingers scrape the back of his neck as her mouth lingers in the crook of his neck.

He presses his hands to her cheeks, lifting her head so he can get a hard look at her. She's breathtaking with the faint light of the edges of the rising sun pressing against her face.

"You know I love you," he says firmly.

Surprise flickers over her face briefly before she nods. "Yeah, I do." She rests her head against his as he breathes deeply, closing his eyes.

"But I love you more," she confesses.

_Oh._ Well, then.

"This is it, Kate. It has to be it."

"I'm done, Castle. This is it." A beat. "_You're_ it."

He smiles. "We're jumping in?"

She grins, pressing a kiss against his lips.

"We're already swimming."

* * *

**Yeah, didn't really turn out like I planned. Would you believe that this was supposed to be fluffy? Facepalm.**

**Love to hear your thoughts.**

**Olivia**


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